


(Not) A Homecoming

by DarthAbby



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, Epistolary, Multi, s03e07 Check-Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:42:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22700422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthAbby/pseuds/DarthAbby
Summary: Bad news, darling. Turns out that the army doesn't think an ulcer is enough of a reason to send me home.Louise McIntyre had cleaned the house and bought what she needed to make her husband's favorite meal. She had told the girls he was coming home, had called 'round and told all the neighbors, too, started planning a party.And now she learns it was all for naught.
Relationships: Louise McIntyre/"Trapper" John McIntyre
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	(Not) A Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> ayyy my first foray into M*A*S*H fic! I just rewatched this episode the other night and couldn't help but wonder what Louise was going through - we know how Trapper and everyone at the 4077th reacted, but what was his wife thinking?
> 
> Also, might just be because I haven't dug through every fic on here yet, but there seems to be a disproportionate amount of hate for Louise on here and I always feel very defensive of female characters who are treated badly.
> 
> So enjoy!

_Dear Louise,_

_Bad news, darling. Turns out that the army doesn't think an ulcer is enough of a reason to send me home._

Louise's hand dropped to the table, taking the letter with it. She covered her eyes with her other hand and sucked in a slow breath.

Not coming home. He wasn't coming home. He was _sick,_ he wasn't fit to work, and he _still wasn't coming home._

She bit back the rage bubbling in her throat, blinked aggressively, and lifted the letter to read on.

_I'm sorry. I know that you and the girls were probably as excited to see me as I was to see you. I really thought I was in the clear, right up until I was packing everything and Radar turned up to give me a choice. I could either go to Tokyo and spend 3 weeks in recovery before being assigned to a different unit, or I could stay with the 4077th. Option C, going home, was conspicuously absent._

Louise pressed her thumbnail into the side of her index finger - an old trick she hadn't used in years to keep from crying. The pain in her finger was more palatable than the pain in her heart.

Damn them, damn them all - damn the whole army, from Radar to MacArthur! Damn them for keeping him away! He was supposed to be on his way _home,_ for rest and recovery before starting up at the hospital in Boston again, not stuck in the Korean mudpit they had carted him off to! 

_I'm as heartbroken as you are, Louise. I really thought that this was it. I never would have sent that express telegram if I had known this would happen. I never would have gotten your hopes up if I had known they would be dashed._

_Tell the girls I love them, and that I'm sorry. I won't promise to be home soon, but I'll be home as quickly as the US Army allows._

_All my love - John_

Louise set the letter down on the table and took several deep breathes, fighting against the wave of emotions that was threatening to wash her away. The internal screams of frustration about the sheer unfairness of it all pursed her lips as she struggled to keep them internal.

Beneath the rage was an undercurrent of practicality. She needed to tell the girls, first and foremost. They wouldn't take it well, so she needed to be calm and composed for their sakes. Then she would need to tell her parents, and his. Their friends. At least now she didn't need to take the time off of work, her boss would be pleased about that, at least.

She shuddered at the thought that one single person would receive any joy from the fact that John was still stuck in Korea, in a war he wanted nothing to do with, far away from his family. It was cruel, even as she knew it was only sensible.

There was still time before the girls returned from school, and she realized that, before anything else, she needed to respond to him.

Writing _Dear Trapper_ stung something fierce - he had begged her to never address a letter to him as _Dear John_ for fear of giving him a heart attack every mail call. She had agreed easily, but now it was just a bitter reminder that he wasn't coming home.

* * *

_Dear Trapper,_

_What can I possibly write to express how wretched I feel right now? There are no words. I am filled to the brim with rage and sorrow and so much else that I feel I might burst._

Trapper's fingers curled tighter around the edge of the paper as he read, as though Louise's emotions were being touch-transfered from the ink to his skin. He noticed the wrinkles beginning to obscure her words and hastily smoothed out the letter against his leg before continuing to read.

_I have no idea how to break the news to the girls. They're still in school right now - perhaps I should have held off on writing back, but I couldn't. I need you, John, even more now that I almost had you back and you were snatched away again. That knowledge alone is painful._

He was well aware of that pain. He had been close, _so close,_ to being able to kiss Louise, to gather Kathy and Becky in his arms, to finally have more than letters and pictures again. He had almost close enough to taste it before it had all been stolen away.

That was the real cruelty of the war, in his opinion. What it did to the families who hadn't asked for any of this - both the American families like his own, split by thousands of miles and a hundred layers of red tape, and the Korean families who were unlucky enough to live on a spit of land that the rest of the world had decided looked to be a good place for a pissing match.

_If there was some way for me to bring you home by snapping my fingers, I would have done it a long time ago. I know we agreed to no wistful thinking in letters, that it would only make things harder for both of us, but dear, forgive me it this once. I almost had you back. I was almost done worrying, and now it's worse by tenfold._

_I wish only that the army would understand that you're ill and should come home. Aren't there enough men over there? It seems that every boy on our street has vanished to the other side of the world, even those that still seemed to be children._

He winced. That was true enough - every other patient on his table hardly looked a day over fifteen. Some of them probably weren't.

_I'll send along another letter soon - within a day or so, to tell you how the girls are doing. But I needed to say my piece first, to tell you that I have been stripped raw and bleeding by a war that I haven't seen a single bullet from. If I was able, I would march up to MacArthur himself and demand that you be sent home._

Trapper barked a hoarse laugh at that. He could just picture Louise doing it, in all of her 5'2" glory - 5'4" if she wore her heels. Storming up to the general and telling him, in no uncertain terms, that Trapper was to be sent home this _instant._

He could all but hear her, volume and accent growing with each word until she was shouting _'MahcAhthah'_ for the entire war to hear.

 _God,_ but he missed her something fierce.

_But I can't, and it's infuriating. I miss you so deeply that it hurts to breathe._

_Please stay safe, dear. Don't do anything rash, and just come home to us in one piece._

_All my love - Louise_

He sighed heavily, rereading the last line. _Don't do anything rash._ She knew him well. He had already tried to drunkenly desert a while back, and that was before he had ever even had a glimmer of hope of going home.

But she was right, of course. He had to stay safe - that was the best way to get home to them. The _only_ way, apparently.

He ran one finger over her name, almost reverently. The closest he could get to holding her for real - even chasing nurses had lost some of the appeal. It wasn't the same. They weren't Louise. He had been _so damn close_ -

**_"Attention, attention! Incoming_ ** **_wounded!"_**

He was up and moving before the words fully registered.

There would be time - hours and hours of awful time - to bemoan the fact that he was still in Korea instead of going home later.

For now, he needed to focus on making sure that the boys who landed on his table were able to go home at all.


End file.
